


Begin Again

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Double Drabble, Established Relationship, Festivals, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Senses, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean and Viggo meet up at the <i>A History of Violence</i> party at the Toronto International Film Festival, Sept. 10, 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> A complimentary pair of drabbles based on both the picture after the cut, and Sean's comment on the _HoV_ carpet that he hadn't seen his "good friend" Viggo in about a year and a half. (There's always a way around canon text difficulties.) Many thanks to [](http://toooldnotto.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://toooldnotto.livejournal.com/)**toooldnotto** for the excellent beta.

  
[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/caras_galadhon/808924/26404/26404_original.jpg)   


_  
**I. Sight**   
_

A year and a half. 547 days (give, take) of not seeing. Touching, only tasting in hotel-dimmed light. Slick skin, sheets slipping, darkness-soft voices; exhausted, hushed hellos and shadowed early morning goodbyes. Work, planes and families distancing dalliance.

Sean blinked against blindness, bulbs flashing images after. He pressed through swirling bodies, familiar with none; alien angles and curves, sweet perfumes masking scent.

A slurred sentence at his shoulder turned him around.

He stepped close and found himself caught in welcoming arms; knew without looking that he'd hungered for sight. Salt and sweat, weight given words; slow simmer, rekindled and reflected.

***

_  
**II. Taste**   
_

Viggo watched the droplets form, glide down the glass, sometimes spreading, pooling on the table as they slithered to the bottom; sometimes stopped in mid-stream, smeared by Sean's fingers.

Viggo wondered, savouring the sight of Sean licking his lips, whether the lime juice that trickled down the inside edge when the wedge had been impaled would linger, tinging Sean's skin, tart taste sliding smoothly under vodka burn.

He looked up and found himself caught in smiling eyes; knew without telling that he'd taste and be tasted, memory meeting moment. Salt and sweat, citrus on skin; slow smoulder, rekindled and reflected.


End file.
